Friday, December 31, 2004
I'm not much for New Year's Eve parties. I went to friends' house tonight for dinner, but I'm alone now, and I anticipate being asleep long before the ball drops.
I'm sad tonight because I got into a fight with someone today whom I care deeply for. It's one of those fights where neither of us is right or wrong; there's a fundamental difference between us that is irresolveable. We try to live in peace with that difference, but today, due to a combination of things, not the least of which is that it is my least favourite day of the year, we managed to create a situation where I don't know if tomorrow will bring a resolution to the fight or a decision to stop being in contact with each other. My preference would be a peaceful resolution, but that will require me living with something that is difficult for me to accept, despite my intellectual intentions to do so.
I don't like using this blog as a confessional, but tonight, of all nights, I'm just so aware of how despite all the time I've spent in recovery, I still don't want to accept reality nor do I want to surrender control. It scares me to be out of control. The world is a frightening place, and even though I spend as much time as I can trying to let go of the things I cannot change and accepting that is so, there are nights, like tonight, where I flail. I should let the water carry me where it needs to carry me, but tonight, damnit, I wish I could be in charge of the tide.
I understand why people become addicts. Or they live off their anger. Or they shop. Or they go through lovers like toilet paper. Being alone can be a place of amazing strength and inspiration; as a writer, I have to be alone to get my work done. May Sarton once said something to the effect that loneliness is the absence of company but solitude is the company of the self. More often than not these past few months, I've gotten to experience solitude. But I have moments when the loneliness is overwhelming. Loneliness is the ground in which addiction of all kinds takes root.
Tonight, I feel as if I'm observing my loneliness through the lens of solitude. I have enough perspective to see that what I'm feeling is temporary, that the hype around the holidays, which emphasize family, and connectedness, and being in a relationship, that all of those things are sold to us the same way we're sold cars and stereos and watches and aspirin. If we just buy the right thing, we'll be happy, our pain will be gone, we'll get what we want. If we're in the right relationship, we'll be happy, our pain will be gone, we'll get what we want.
There's a lot of pain in the world tonight. And my discomfort tonight is nothing compared to what so many people are experiencing. But I'm still entitled to my grief; we can't shut off our feelings because in comparison, our suffering doesn't match up.
My resolution for this coming year is about my continued desire to practice surrender. I wish you could snap your fingers, say you surrender, and voila! Instant acceptance. What I keep finding out is that surrender is a daily process. Daily? Hell.Hourly. So my resolution is to continue to let go of the things over which I have no control.
I wish you all serenity.
© Francesco Zizola/Magnum
At least 70,000 have died in the Sudan. Food supply trucks cannot get through because the UN is understaffed and China is blocking efforts to commit more UN forces. Major aid agencies have withdrawn because of danger to their staff.
Apparently, we are so inured to people dying on the continent of Africa that we shrug our shoulders. AIDS, war, and famine. Oh my!
By the way, both the British and the U.S. governments believe that there is no reason to count the number of Iraqi civilian deaths since the March 2003 invasion. Dead civilians don't count. .
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
The 13th-century mural was discovered four years ago at Massa Marittima, a town south-west of Siena. Dr Ferzoco believes it was intended as a warning, by supporters of the papacy, of the anarchy and licentiousness that would supposedly engulf the town if it fell into the hands of their political rivals.
The bird's nest story from the Malleus tells of a witch who, using "glamour," tricked men into believing that their penises had been removed. She kept all the penises in a bird's nest, where she fed them oats and such. One young man, distraught at having been deprived of his member, asked the witch to restore it to him. She took pity on him and told him he could climb up the tree to grab one, but not the "largest one, because it belonged to the village priest." Kramer and Sprenger were the most humourless of Dominicans, and they reported all of these stories as fact.
What I find fascinating about the mural as described in the article is, as the researchers say, it points to the anarchy that results when sodomy and licentiousness take place. Civilization must, as Freud pointed out, get our baser impulses under control. Governments cannot run if there is sexual anarchy in the streets. The government depends on a well-ordered family unit, headed by a father, in order to inculcate political obedience into its citizens. Pierre de Lancre wrote extensively on this in 16th century France, and the worst threats to this well-ordered system were "witches" and Jews. Witches because they subverted the order of the household and Jews because they didn't believe in Christ, who had given power to the king.
The government is like the family, and increasingly, the Bush White House has reverted to these medieval systems. Daddy President will take care of us if we all get in line and obey. And those nasty homosexuals and loose women are a threat to that system. Everyone has to be in a nuclear family unit so that we can all be good, obedient children to our daddy. That's what all this moral values bullshit is really about. Control. Consolidation of political power. Daddy knows best, even if it means leading us into an ill-conceived war that will cost thousands of us are lives.
Saturday, December 25, 2004
First off, did all these people really vote for Bush/Cheney? Apparently so, if you go by the bumper stickers. There's no recycling here. They're barfing up houses like frat boys at a kegger and the land around here is a drunken sorority girl. The thing that's been making me crazy is that I can't find a bookstore. I've driven all up and down major strips--I can find 12 million souvenir shops and ticket shops and crap, but I can't find a bookstore. I know there must be one in this city, but Jesus. The Bush/Cheney stuff and the lack of bookstores is adding together, you know? And then, well, there's a sign as you come into Orlando. It's a huge billboard. It's got a picture of the Smiling Chimp and the sign says "Our Leader." Is this Orwell's America?
I don't mean to rank on a city. I'm sure that there are charming parts of Orlando that I have yet to find. I'm sure that when I called all the movie theatres looking for something to go see that it was just an accident that there was not a single independent movie anywhere.
I need some cul-chuh. And I don't mean going to Epcot and pretending to sit in a Moroccan bazaar.
Here, for your reading pleasure, is the review in full. I TOLD you guys to read her books.
December 26, 2004
By MARILYN STASIO
Karen Novak's first novel, ''Five Mile House'' (2000), in which she introduced a police detective named Leslie Stone who could see dead people, was pretty strange. The second book in the series, ''Innocence'' (2003), in which the spirits of murdered children clamored for Leslie's attention, was stranger still. Now Novak has written something really weird.
THE WILDERNESS (Bloomsbury, paper, $15.95) is no more a conventional ghost story than the two previous books. Rather, it continues Novak's attempt to expand the limits of human understanding by probing Leslie's disordered mind for buried memories and subliminal images that might account for her extraordinary vision. As Novak puts it, her objective is to learn how blind spots work by studying the images the brain throws off to compensate for them.
Off the force and out of the institution where she landed after deliberately killing a child rapist, Leslie has made a pact with her husband, Greg (''I was not to harbor ghosts in secret''), and has set herself up at home as a private investigator. But when a frail old man, James Kendrick, is found frozen to death at Happy Andy's, an abandoned petting zoo she visited as a child, Leslie becomes obsessed with his death and gives herself up to the disturbing fantasies it awakens in her.
Novak is a spiral thinker and an imaginative storyteller, so while the dense narrative is apt to wander off like a child picking berries in the woods, individual scenes of horror stand their ground with the frightful intensity of a bad dream. The nightmares are especially vivid at Happy Andy's, where the locked pens of long-gone goats and ponies swing open and visitors are stalked by specters of angry peacocks. Unable to stay away from this dreadful place, Leslie follows the ghost of a little black girl in a white dress to a frozen rock pit where the skeletal remains of a child are found.
Leslie is now convinced that James Kendrick was the child murderer who was the bogeyman of her own childhood, a belief shared by Sophia Mallory, a black journalist with her own reasons for hiring Leslie to dig up the dead man's past. The two women puzzle over Kendrick's journal references to an old nursery rhyme whose lines can be manipulated for hidden meanings. Although much is made of what these cryptic readings reveal about the dark history of the Kendrick family, it's the imagery that unlocks Leslie's imagination and triggers her hallucinations. ''The bird stood in as guilt for my failures,'' she says of ''those iridescent and unforgiving eyes'' that stare at her from the peacock's tail.
Unfortunately, that guilt seems justified, considering the hell Leslie puts her family through when she stops taking her medication and sneaks out of the house to lose herself for days on end -- increasingly, in the company of a lover -- in what she calls ''my haunted amusement park of a mind.'' Not quite as cavalier about domestic responsibility as her headstrong heroine, Novak devotes entire chapters to tense updates from the home front, where Leslie's two daughters act out their anxieties about their absent mother while their father struggles to hold things together. For someone so committed to second sight, Leslie can be blind as a bat.
Monday, December 20, 2004
You remember Mr. Allen, don't you?
What should we do with US classics like Cat on a Hot Tin Roof or The Color Purple? "Dig a hole," Gerald Allen recommends, "and dump them in it." Don't laugh. Gerald Allen's book-burying opinions are not a joke.
Earlier this week, Allen got a call from Washington. He will be meeting with President Bush on Monday. I asked him if this was his first invitation to the White House. "Oh no," he laughs. "It's my fifth meeting with Mr Bush."
The world is falling apart: crisis in Darfur, crisis in Iraq, nuclear weapons in North Korea, ad nauseum, and Bush has time to meet with Gerald Allen five times over the homosexual agenda? What's really going on in the Lincoln Bedroom? I think I know.
Bush and Allen stay up late, sitting in the Lincoln bedroom, reading the "good" parts from literature.
"Ew. Boys kissing!" says Bush.
"Yucky." says Allen. "Let me read you something else."
"You put your penis where?" says Bush.
"In a big hole," says Allen. "Wanna try it?"
"That was bad. Books are bad. Burn books. Books made me do it. I hate books. LAURA!!!!"
Wanna know how cold? For those of you who don't know what below zero feels like, here are two things to know.
Snow SQUEAKS when you walk across it.
The hairs in your nose freeze when you breathe in. My temperature gauge over the past 11 years has revealed that this only happens at 0 or below, so when I walked out to my car and my nostrils started sealing shut, I came in and checked the temp. -3. -3. Minus fucking three.
This is a fiction list. Non-fiction will appear later.
1. The Wilderness Karen Novak. Leslie Stone is a detective with a leaky imagination, haunted by children she cannot save. Having discovered the bones of a child long-dead on Christmas Day, Stone's unraveling of the crime leads her into the wilderness where there is strange fruit hanging from the trees.
2. A Sunday at the Pool in Kigali Gil Courtemanche. A French journalist falls in love with a Rwandan hotel worker in the months leading up to the genocide.
3. Eyes Like Mine Paul Cody. Cody narrates this disturbing but mesmerizing story of a young man who kills the members of his family.
4. The Darling Russell Banks. I would read Cracker Jack boxes if they were written by Banks, but his latest is great. A member of the Weather Underground flees America to escape the FBI, lands in Liberia, and marries a government official. From her vantage point, she watches as the country moves toward civil war, and watches as her children are drawn into it.
5. The Shadow of the Wind Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Fascist Spain, a love of books and their secrets, and young lovers' yearning combine to create an incredibly intelligent, lyrical book about a quest.
6. The Dogs of Babel Carolyn Parkhurst. Devastated by an accident that killed his wife, a widower sets out to get the truth from the only living witness: the couple's dog. An amazing meditation on grief.
7. Oracle Night Paul Auster. This book is not for everyone. If you like tidy endings, this'll kill you. Auster's character is enchanted by the notebooks in which he writes his stories. A book that is really about the writing process.
What would you recommend?
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Why is it that so many male writers think that writing gives them ingress into women's ingresses? And why do so many women fall for those cunning linguists?
1. Postal Service Give UpSub Pop
Combine the sensitivity and intelligence of Death Cab for Cutie with aural candy, you get this gem.
2. Green Day American Idiot
This one has been on high rotation since the election. Maybe over-produced, but the lyrics and the melody have me stomping along in my car. Cathartic for those of us who woke up to a nightmare on November 3.
3. Patty Griffin Impossible Dream
No one carries a tune like Griffin and the starkness and beauty of the imagery in her lyrics will raise the hairs on the back of your neck. "Useless Desires" is my favourite track on this album.
4. Garden State Soundtrack
Yeah. I know. It's a compilation. But Zach Braff put together such a fabulous combination of tunes (except for Colin Hay's, which I skip every time). And he gave us Natalie Portman offering Braff music that would change his life: The Shins.
Okay. So I know P.S. came out in 2003--so sue me.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
I have spent a huge amount of my life attempting to understand how prejudice works. And what's amazing is the stories we tell to distinguish "us" from "them" never change. "They" kill babies, desecrate our religious symbols, rape our women, castrate our men. "They" have no respect for life, and are fanatics, and will kill for their beliefs. "We" are never safe because they are invisible. So we must mark them so that we can see them, and once we can see them, we can destroy them.
Jo and I were in graduate school together, and Jo did brilliant work on how Jews came to be branded in Christian Europe as ritual murderers. I was fascinated by accusations of witchcraft, because I wanted to understand what role gender and religion played in the formation of prejudice.
While I was an academic, I increasingly intellectualized the problem. Here's a precis for a paper I gave:
"Suffer the Children: Representations of Ritual Infanticide in Renaissance Europe"
Lorraine Berry, Department of History
Beginning in the Quattrocentro, a proliferation of fantastical images appeared in both Italy and Germany, illustrating the imaginary ritual killing of children. One set of illustrations depicted, in lurid detail, the centuries-old charge of ritual murder/blood libel against the Jews. The second set of representations portrayed women killing children while present at the witches' sabbath. In this paper, I want to look specifically at a limited number of these visual representations. Ranging from Florence in 1475 to Germany in the late sixteenth century, these woodcuts helped to disseminate the twin discourses of ritual infanticide. I will argue that these representations of ritual infanticide were both the products and producers of discourses of abjection whose social effect was the instantiation of the Christian subject. Employing the theories of such feminist writers as Kristeva, Butler, and de Lauretis, I will show how the very images of ritual infanticide themselves, while depicting the "Other" engaged in acts of violence against children, also served as discomfiting parables for their Christian audiences. While unarticulated, these images functioned to remind observers of their own relationship to the abject.
Note the intellectual distance, the attempt to layer language between myself and my topic. What I wanted to do was to stand before the audience and scream, "Look at what propaganda looks like! Look at how it was used to incite hatred--which inevitably led to murder--against groups of people who were regarded as the internal enemy." But screaming at your audience in academia is not considered cool.
But I also wanted to point out that the things we fear in the Other are the things we claim are not ours. We do not torture, or rape, or rip fetuses from their mothers' wombs and claim them as our own, or lynch, or threaten children (who are having to be escorted by the National Guard) on their way to school. (And no, I'm not providing links. The documents are out there.)
And one of the major fears, which comes up over and over again, is that somehow we're going to mix with them. The Fourth Lateran Council in 1215 decreed that Jews needed to wear a distinguishing circle on their clothes. Why? In order to prevent their men sleeping with Christian women or Jewish women seducing Christian men. The history of fears of "miscegnation" in American history is encyclopedic. Ask Emmett Till what happens to an African American boy who dares to whistle at a Caucasian woman.
So, 44 percent of Americans think that Muslim Americans should have their rights restricted. In the meantime, we can trust the mainstream media to present us with lurid images of death and destruction, intimate that "they" did it. And the ranks of them are getting larger. If you have been following the news of late, the only people who can be trusted to safeguard our morals are born-again Christians. The rest of us don't count. You don't need to have me repeat Niemoller's warning. You should know it by heart.
I don't mean to lecture. I really don't. It's more of a howl in the dark.
I sit here and want to cry. As it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end.
Friday, December 17, 2004
In a study to determine how much the public fears terrorism, almost half of respondents polled nationally said they believe the U.S. government should -- in some way -- curtail civil liberties for Muslim Americans, according to a new survey released today (Dec. 17) by Cornell University.
About 27 percent of respondents said that all Muslim Americans should be required to register their location with the federal government, and 26 percent said they think that mosques should be closely monitored by U.S. law enforcement agencies. Twenty-nine percent agreed that undercover law enforcement agents should infiltrate Muslim civic and volunteer organizations, in order to keep tabs on their activities and fund raising. About 22 percent said the federal government should profile citizens as potential threats based on the fact that they are Muslim or have Middle Eastern heritage. In all, about 44 percent said they believe that some curtailment of civil liberties is necessary for Muslim Americans.
In perhaps what is the most telling part of the survey,
The survey also showed a correlation between television news-viewing habits, a respondent's fear level and attitudes toward restrictions on civil liberties for all Americans. Respondents who paid a lot of attention to television news were more likely to favor restrictions on civil liberties, such as greater power for the government to monitor the Internet. Respondents who paid less attention to television news were less likely to support such measures. "The more attention paid to television news, the more you fear terrorism, and you are more likely to favor restrictions on civil liberties," says Nisbet.
More to come on this. In the meantime, residents of Colorado Springs will be getting a nice fictional supplement with their Sunday papers.
I am speechless, disheartened, need to go off and think for a while. I want to believe that people are basically good, but the reptiles are winning. They're manipulating those primitive parts of our brains where all our fears live. They're summoning bogey-men night after night after night. And it won't be too much longer before people grab lighted torches and pitchforks and go out into the night to hunt the monsters. And I'm scared. Because I'm one of the monsters.
So, just how many votes do we think may have been misplaced in Ohio?
7:16 pm update
c. Mark Beazley (firstname.lastname@example.org)
A Fixed Idea
What torture lurks within a single thought
When grown too constant, and however kind,
However welcome still, the weary mind
Aches with its presence. Dull remembrance taught
Remembers on unceasingly; unsought
The old delight is with us but to find
That all recurring joy is pain refined,
Become a habit, and we struggle, caught.
You lie upon my heart as on a nest,
Folded in peace, for you can never know
How crushed I am with having you at rest
Heavy upon my life. I love you so
You bind my freedom from its rightful quest.
In mercy lift your drooping wings and go.
A Dome of Many-coloured Glass
If you want to see the work my students do, check out NeoVox
Thursday, December 16, 2004
In the future, blowhards like Bill O'Reilly will be declaring those who don't celebrate the August holidays to be non-citizens, proclaiming that they need to go back to Israel. As usual, Jews will now be persecuted for not believing in the miracles propagated by the trucker's son from Mississippi or the kindergarten teacher who became a princess. After all, it's apparently the Jews' fault that Mel Gibson can't catch a break in Hollywood.
So, let me just go on record as saying that as is the case with Elvis and Diana, I believe that Jesus is dead. Just as the rest of us will be when we die. It's frightening to think there's nothing after death, but if heaven is a place where born-agains proclaim their moral superiority to the rest of us while Americans torture prisoners at Guantanamo, bomb children in Baghdad, rape children at Abu Ghraib, and allow our own citizens to lie homeless in the streets, well, I'd rather take my chances in whatever hell you can dream up.
As I said before, Gregoire took a lot of heat for not giving up. I applaud the woman. Democracy means counting every vote, even if it's inconvenient. And, regardless of whether she ultimately wins this election, the lame-ass Democratic party could take a major lesson from this woman's chutzpah.
Photo (c) Anthony Congiano
Some of you may have been following the story of Pale Male, the magnificent red-tailed hawk evicted from his nest by Richard Cohen and Paula Zahn (yes--the CNN princess). The day-by-day account of the protests is at Hiding in Plain Sight . It's a small thing, evicting a hawk from his nest. There is so much pain and suffering going on in the world that I feel overwhelmed. But restoring that nest feels incredibly important right now; I would see it as a small way of restoring my faith in humanity.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
This is just one small snippet of an incident of abuse as contained in the documents released under the FOIA to the ACLU.
I want you to kneel on a hard stone floor with your hands behind your back with a burlap sack over your head. I want you to see how long you can hold that position. Can you do it for 24 hours? Are your knees aching yet? Are you breaking out in a rash from the combination of sweat and itchy burlap against your skin? Do you have to take a shit? Have you wet your pants? Is someone yelling at you in a language you can't understand? Do you think you've been physically abused? You do? Your captors don't, and yet, they report that they have trouble since they've come home. Some images stay with you. You torture a man, it stays on your conscience.
There will be more to come on this. I'm gathering my thoughts.
In the meantime, be proud to be an American.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
c. Jymi Bolden
I have been thinking about Karen Novak a lot these past few weeks. Not because the two of us are friends, and, as friends are wont to do, we think often of those we love, but because once again, as one of Karen's novels is about to be released, I find myself wondering how she does it--how does Karen somehow tap into some underground spring of knowledge that comes to the surface in the news only after Karen's work is complete and in press. As if she is prescient, or one of those
animals that picks up on the shifting of the earth long before the rest of us find ourselves caught in the earthquake. In this case, it's the photographs. I assume you know the ones I'm talking about: the ones where ordinary men and women stare at us, grinning, ecstatic, proud, direct from hell's trophy room, and give us the thumb's up as they pose with what they've bagged, humiliated, destroyed. And they sent these pictures back to their friends and relatives like
postcards--"having a great time. wish you were here." There was another time in our country's history when such postcards were mailed, when human beings posed with their victims, unrecognizable in their butchered humanity, and again, as before, the torturers felt no shame, only glee at what they had done. It is that time, that time before, that The Wilderness explores.
Looking at the photos now from Abu Ghraib one is struck by how blind
the torturers are to what they've really done. And it is that type of
willful not seeing that is a theme that runs through Karen's books.
Because the first thing that Karen questions is whether it is voluntary
blindness or a trick of the eye that keeps us as human beings stuck in darkness.
Karen's characters illuminate their own blind spots for us the readers while they remain unable to bring them into autofocus. As with all of us who choose to remain conscious in a world where we might better long for the sweet release of oblivion, Karen's characters circle around
their own blind spots as a person might do who is trying to see her own spine by looking over her shoulder. You know it's there and visible to others, but you have to accept that it's part of who
you are and forever out of sight.
Whether it's detailing the slow erosion of a marriage until that one day when both partners awake at the bottom of the ravine, or following the frantic road of a mother's desire to love her child, or telling the tender story of a daughter's desire to protect her father to the point of doing him grave harm, Karen's willingness to allow her characters to be flawed without needing to fix them is the revelation of one of the facets of Karen's gift. If her characters receive epiphanies, they are not the epiphanies that bring about happy endings, they are, instead, those moments that Rilke, in letter #8, said, "are the moments when something new has entered us, something unknown; our feelings grow mute in shy embarrassment, everything in us withdraws, a silence arises, and the new experience, which no one knows, stands in the midst of it all and says nothing." Karen allows those moments to retain their silence, and does not grant to her characters the easy epiphanies of instant gratification. Knowledge, like life, is slow and comes only on its own terms.
And yet, as flawed as Karen's characters are, they are radiant. The Japanese have a philosophy called wabi-sabi, an aesthetic that insists that things are not beautiful in spite of their flaws, but rather, because of them. There is great beauty in the chipped jug, the asymmetric bowl. Karen's world is inhabited by wabi-sabi, and she is its mistress, leading us by the hand, making us look at those imperfections, to really see them, and in seeing them, noticing just what fucking glorious creatures we really are.
The lesson in all this? Well, where to start? If the Democratic National Committee had shown Gregoire's chutzpah after the 2000 election, imagine where we'd be. If both Gore and Kerry had not "graciously" conceded, but instead fought to have the votes of the disenfranchised counted, imagine where we'd be.
Seattle Times reports that the Republicans are planning something that looks suspiciously like a riot to protest the newest development. Why am I not surprised?
UPDATE AT 2:39 PM It's fucking Florida all over again. The Washington State Supreme Court ruled today that election officials do NOT have to count previously discarded ballots in a hand recount. So, there will be no opportunity to include ballots that were wrongly discarded in the first place.
Lodi (CA) School District considers allowing a "Crisis Pregnancy Center" to design its sex-ed curriculum.
Featuring such insights as "my mother was an idiot," and "if you don't want your teenage daughter to get pregnant, don't allow her to" Carl Worden shares his words of wisdom for befuddled parents.
This one may take the prize. A school district in Texas, concerned that its school isn't meeting science-curriculum standards, considers how to better educate its students about science. AT the same meeting , it decides to teach an ABSTINENCE-BASED sex education course in its (are you ready for this?) science courses.
ACLU is Anti-Christian.
Hate mongers look like Tom Selleck. Is there an editor at the Miami Herald?
My IQ temporarily dropped 20 points while I was reading this drivel, and I feel slimey. I think I'll go take a shower and see if I can coax my frontal lobes into working again.
Monday, December 13, 2004
Leaders at Cary Christian School say they are not condoning slavery by using "Southern Slavery, As It Was," a booklet that attempts to provide a biblical justification for slavery and asserts that slaves weren't treated as badly as people think.
Principal Larry Stephenson said the school is only exposing students to different ideas, such as how the South justified slavery. He said the booklet is used because it is hard to find writings that are both sympathetic to the South and explore what the Bible says about slavery.
I've checked the school's web site, and not surprisingly, every single picture is of a white child. Statistics are not available on the site, but I'm guessing that there are not a lot of African Americans enrolled.
While I agree that an attempt to understand the past necessitates a presentation of the philosophy that led to such things as slave-holding, there are much more intelligent, honest ways to present such information. Using Uncle Tom's Cabin as the straw man against which the school is presenting another view is a specious argument; in the 140 years since the end of the war, vast amounts of scholarship have been done that document how the North profited from Southern slavery even when it condemned it. Any history teacher worth his or her salt knows this; Cary's administrators are propagandists, not historians. There were reasons that the South went to war, but defending slavery is an abomination.
I'm assuming that the following topics will be covered in Cary's curriculum in the coming year:
"Putting Jews to Sleep: Why gas was a humane way to deal with the Jews according to biblical principles."
"Native Americans were pagans: Wounded Knee as justified by the Old Testament."
"Paul Told Women To Shut Up: The biblical perspective on beating the crap out of your wife."
Thanks to Jo for alerting me to the story.
But, in a ruling that declares non-procreative sex "natural," oral sex is once again okay.
Ms. Davis (below) must be blowing a gasket, but not her husband.
Tutorials on the delectable art of bringing one's partner to orgasm using one's mouth:
It's difficult to know where to start. I could cite the statistics that show that these programs don't work, and in fact, teenagers who sign "abstinence" pledges are MORE likely to engage in unprotected, premarital sex than their more well-informed peers. But citing those statistics is like spitting into a hurricane.
What has left me reeling is the following statement made by a state representative from Missouri, who actively compares those who support sex education to terrorists.
State Representative Cynthia Davis of Missouri prefiled two bills for the next session of the Legislature that she said "reflect what people want." One would remove the state's requirement that all forms of contraception and their potential health effects be taught in schools, leaving the focus on abstinence. Another would require publishers that sell biology textbooks to Missouri to include at least one chapter with alternative theories to evolution.
"These are common-sense, grass-roots ideas from the people I represent, and I'd be very surprised if a majority of legislators didn't feel they were the right solutions to these problems," Ms. Davis said.
"It's like when the hijackers took over those four planes on Sept. 11 and took people to a place where they didn't want to go," she added. "I think a lot of people feel that liberals have taken our country somewhere we don't want to go. I think a lot more people realize this is our country and we're going to take it back."
Ms. Davis needs to hear from people across the country, regardless of their position on contraception. Comparing people you disagree with to terrorists is a form of fascism. Yes. The "F" word. My letter to her is below.
Luckily, not everyone in Missouri is ready to get lock-step behind the Davis brigade. Columnist Sylvester Brown, Jr. has a lot to say in response to his fellow misery-loves-company staters. And sometimes, letting people hang themselves with their own words is perfect.
Mohl said Waxman's report doesn't consider the versatility of the nation's "say no" programs.
"There are many kinds of programs. It's not fair to brush us all with the same stroke. There's no single curriculum. Our program is developed locally, and I can assure you, there are no religious overtones."
It's nice to know that Ms. Mohl likes to be stroked. Perhaps if stroking oneself was part of sexuality education, there would be fewer incidents involving farm animals in Missouri.
But, lest we think that fear of sex is a red-state phenomenon, the following story comes to us from Massachusetts. Seems there are pharmacists who object to doing their jobs if it involves dispensing contraception to unmarried women.
Do not crawl back under the covers. Do a search to find out what bills are before your state's legislature. And while you're at it, please drop a note to Ann Coulter's soul sister in Missouri.
My letter to Cynthia Davis:
Date: Mon, 13 Dec 2004 05:59:40 -0800 (PST)
From: "Lorraine Berry"
Subject: Thank you
Dear Ms. Davis,
Thank you for your efforts to eradicate the ability for people who
disagree with one another to have a conversation. You're right: We
should not be talking to those with whom we have differences. It's so
much more effective to label the other side "terrorists." That way,
we've dehumanized them, and, well, you can't talk to animals now, can
Comparing those who advocate for a medically based approach to sexual
education (as opposed to one based on Christian Fundamentalist
morality) to terrorists hijacking a plane was an act of political
cowardice. It is beyond the pale of civil discourse. It is not the
compassion toward one's fellow humans that Christ taught. It is, Ms.
Shame on you.
Hiding in Plain Sight
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Photograph by Nicole DeVito
Copyright © 1999 The Register-Guard
56 percent of those contracting AIDS in Africa are women, according to reports publicized on World AIDS Day (December 1). It's no accident that women are the majority: while we mouth bullshit affirmations such as "Just Say No," women who are powerless to say no to their husbands are infected with AIDS. Statistics show that it's single women in Africa who are less likely to contract the virus; the rate among married women is climbing.
Whenever one of my female students tells me that she's not a feminist, I've come up with a pat response: "So, what exactly is it about the idea that you're not entitled to the same rights as men that you object to?" The conversations are mind-numbing. "Oh, I don't have a problem with equal rights. I just don't identify with feminism--I mean, I shave my legs and I like boys."
Christ on a Crutch. At this point in the conversation, I usually point out that this person has allowed herself to buy into the Right's interpretation of feminism. She's allowed the enemies of women to tell my student, who usually considers herself a free-thinker (after all, she has tattoos and multiple piercings), that she isn't a feminist because she shaves her legs. And, since many of my closest friends are lesbians, I'm deeply offended by the idea that being considered a lesbian is an insult. If I didn't like boys so much, I'd be a lesbian in a heartbeat.
It's this sort of hijacking of the terms of human rights that continues to contribute to the AIDS epidemic around the world. Without the power to control one's own body, one cannot protect oneself. If you have no legal rights to stand up to your husband, you cannot prevent him from fucking you without a condom even though he's HIV positive.
If you cannot control your own body, you cannot make decisions about whether to bring a child into the world. Right-to-lifers who claim that they are doing this out of love for the fetus, but then turn around and refuse to care for the children brought unwillingly into this world, will sit in the inner circle of hell. Right-to-lifers who teach women that they are nothing more than vessels for bringing children into the world do not love women. They hate women, and many of their number are self-haters.
In Africa, orphans roam the streets. Deprived of their parents by AIDS, war, and famine, forgotten children have nowhere to go. The situation is overwhelming, and there are days when I feel helpless. But, there is a tiny thing you can do. There is a small AIDS orphanage called Makindu , where children have a refuge from the brutality of the streets. A donation would go a long way.
The Children Left Behind
For a Child's Smile
Saturday, December 11, 2004
My 13-year old plays on a basketball team. Earlier this week, the mother of one of her teammates was crossing in a crosswalk and was run over by a SUV that kept going. I see constant reminders of the fragility of life. Iraq is about that, of course, but in a way, on days when I don't want to deal with Iraq, I simply don't read the news. But my child is trying to understand how you can say goodbye to your mom in the morning and then find out in the afternoon that she is dead.
I had my own near miss in October, when I was involved in a serious car accident that everyone on the scene told me I was lucky to have survived. I'm not depressed by this; I think the sadness I feel for this woman's children is appropriate. But I also feel grounded by it. It makes me aware that life can't be controlled, it can only be accepted on its own terms. It doesn't mean you don't fight like hell for the living, or to change what you can, but it seems to me that there's a certain grace in being aware of where you really are in the vastness of the universe.
I always thought that serenity would involve a form of ecstacy, and there is joy there, but serenity is more quiet.
Monday, December 06, 2004
“There were families with nothing. I met a family with three daughters and two sons. One of their sons, Mustafa who was 16 years old, was killed by American snipers. Then their house was burned. They had nothing to eat. Just rice and cold water-dirty water…they put the rice in the dirty water, let it sit for one or two hours, then they ate the rice. Fatma, the 17 year-old daughter, said she was praying for God to take her soul because she couldn’t bear the horrors anymore.”
The families’ 12 year old boy told Suthir he used to want to be a doctor or a journalist. She paused then added, “He said that now he has no more dreams. He could no longer even sleep.”
One of the most disturbing things that Jamail is reporting is that refugees have reported seeing U.S. tanks with dead Iraqis strapped to the front like trophies. I wonder if one of those photos would be reported in the mainstream press?
Sunday, December 05, 2004
This is what hatred looks like.
This is what happens when hate-mongers in our culture are successful in their mission to dehumanize their brothers and sisters.
This is what happens when ordinary people allow themselves to get caught up in that hatred.
This is what happens when the Bible is quoted to justify the separation of the races, the subjugation of women, the denial of civil rights to gays and lesbians, holy war.
This is why we must not be silent.
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Allen said that if his bill passes, novels with gay protagonists and college textbooks that suggest homosexuality is natural would have to be removed from library shelves and destroyed.
"I guess we dig a big hole and dump them in and bury them," he said.
Hehhehheh. Hey Beavis, he said "big hole."
The legislator, who appeared on the courthouse steps in jack boots and a trench coat, reported that the trauma caused by his erections in public libraries, as he read Evelyn Waugh novels and The Phaedo, was something he wanted to spare other young men. "I mean, my wife caught me beating off to a picture of Tennessee Williams and she's made me sleep on the couch ever since," he offered. "I'm doing this as a public service. No one should ever have to go through the trauma of getting turned on by reading about boys kissing each other. I thought that maybe I was a fag, until my pastor convinced me that it was the book's fault. Books are evil."
Friday, December 03, 2004
I had to travel to Costa Rica on business in June. One day, I found myself sat next to a young college woman from Texas. During the course of our conversation, she casually mentioned that she and her boyfriend (a businessman in his mid-50s who was doing some "consulting" work in San Jose) were big fans of Bush. "In fact," she said, "We just bought a HumVee because we got an enormous tax credit for it."
What do you say to that?
Jo's juxtaposition of the two articles is perfect. Please take a look.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
The irony of juxtaposing your statement on diversity with your decision not to air the advertisement from the United Church of Christ is staggering. You seem to have no problem with giving hate-mongering Christians--those who misquote the Bible to condemn gays--plenty of airtime through inviting them to speak on your news programs, and selling their PACs advertising during the election season, but a simple advertisement that argues that perhaps Jesus wasn't a bigot is too controversial for you to air. How do you sleep at night?
I have wrestled with myself today as to the type of letter I should write to you. I wanted to make it respectful, to tactfully suggest to you that you reconsider your opinion, but I'm tired. I'm tired of hate being promoted as a moral value in this country while loving one's neighbor is depicted as a perversion. You have clearly cast your lot with the hateful bigots in this country. May you enjoy their company.
You can inform your other advertisers that there will be one less viewer for "CSI." My hope is that I'm not alone, and there will be economic consequences for you in refusing to run the ad.
You are cowards. Plain and simple. There is no diplomatic way to say it; there are no euphemisms. You are the Cowardly Broadcasting System. At least you don't need to change your call letters.
To see the ad .
CBS statement on diversity .
Letter will be sent to NBC later today. email@example.com
This is my great-grandfather. He died in the trenches of World War I, while my great-grandmother was pregnant with my grandmother. My grandmother, of course, never met her father. World War I was supposed to be the war to end all wars.
The Parable of The Old Man and The Young
Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)
So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,
And took the fire with him, and a knife.
And as they sojourned, both of them together,
Isaac the first-born spake, and said, My Father,
Behold the preparations, fire and iron,
But where the lamb for this burnt-offering?
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps,
And builded parapets the trenches there,
And stretched forth the knife to slay his son.
When lo! an angel called him out of heaven,
Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him. Behold,
A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns;
Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.
But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.